Shouldering a burden -open-

"The physical ones that can be seen, I don't know what happened to you Amadora. I want to help you i really do. Your scars go deep and are far worse than mine." Tristan said looking at her seriously. "I can help you if you let me Amadora."

Dora bit her lip and looked down at her tea. She knew she was in trouble - she’d said too much and let him in unintentionally and let him know just exactly how torn she was and now he wanted to help. He wanted to help her. Dora put her tea down on the table and rested her elbows on the end before dropping her head into her hands. She couldn’t think of anything to say or anything to do - something to get her out of the mess she’d got herself in. She knew she needed help in more ways than not but she couldn’t go to St. Mungo’s and she most definitely couldn’t talk to him - a stranger.

He has a name. Her father’s voice drifted through her head and she sighed. He’d kind and caring, why not open up? Dora sighed again and slowly moved to pick her tea up again. She breathed in the sweet smell and drank once more before speaking.
“I’m an orphan.” she said quietly. “But I guess I’m not one of the ones that get thrown in and out of Foster homes and end up back in the orphanage I started at. When I was ten my father’s death was reported in the Prophet. My mother went missing shortly after. My father meant so much to me. He was my whole world - my life. He saved me from the werewolf that did all of this.” she gestured to her body. “Sure he wasn’t fast enough to save my appearance but that doesn’t matter to me. The wolf didn’t manage to infect me but I suppose I’m a bit of a hybrid. Human elements and werewolf elements mixed together but not a lycanthrope. The awful thing is that, that’s not even the beginning.”

Tristan listened and looked at her, "I know about being an Orphan, and about going in and out of Foster homes. I'm sorry about your father and mother Amadora." He got up and moved closer to her putting a hand on her back softly. Tristan didn't know much about comforting girls, he rubbed her back softly not knowing what to do to make her feel better.

"Don't be." Dora mumbled, wrapping her arms around herself. The familiar feeling of her inevitable destruction was coming back and she didn't think she could handle it. Old wounds were coming up fast and she knew her death would probably be self-inflicted. But it wouldn't be done physically she would just wear away into the distance. "You're an orphan?” she asked. "Forgive me, you don't seem like one."

"Yes i'm an orphan my father died when i was three and my mom died giving birth to me." Tristan said softly. "I didn't know either of my parents long enough to remember them, my sister died when we were separated and she died in a foster home. I was beaten in each foster home i went to so the state put me in a Orphanage and i never left there." He stood up and lifted the back of his shirt to show the pink scar that ran deep. "This is what scars i have from the foster homes."

Why anyone wanted to hurt him she couldn’t quite figure out. But going against everything she knew, Dora reached out and ran her finger along the pink line that seemed to shine against his skin. Dora sighed and took her hand from his skin. She probably made him uncomfortable - more so than she intended to but she couldn’t quite grasp why anyone wanted to hurt him. She was a walking, talking scar but she seemed to always find excuses for why someone would want to hurt her. The werewolf attacked her out of instinct, her mother hit her because she was angry, her siblings hated her because she’d done something wrong. She’d always make up excuses for those who had wronged her because her self-loathing outweighed everything else. She couldn’t pity herself because she didn’t know how. She firmly believed she was being punished for her misdeeds. “An I thought I’d gone though hell..” she whispered, looking down at her scarred and tarnished hands.

"You have gone through hell but sometimes your not the only one." Tristan put his shirt back down and sat next to her again. He took her hand and looked at the scars on them, he ran his finger across the scars there. He flipped her hand over to see if any were there scars there, he looked up at her and said, "A beautiful girl like you shouldn't of had to go through that much pain."

Dora's eyes glazed over and she was inwardly screaming - something would become audible no doubt. She couldn't see, her vision was gone and she could see other images coming closer to her. She knew she was probably screaming or at least doing something insanely loud. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, she could feel that much but even that was cut off until she found herself in her bedroom - her old one.

"Daddy?" the words spilled from her mouth and her little eyes looked up at her father.
"Let go Dora... let go of you fears." His voice was ghost-like... dead.

"No!" Dora's eyes snapped open and she was back in the kitchen with her hand in Tristan's. She could feel the tears on her cheeks and she swallowed. Dora pulled her legs up onto the chair and hugged her knees close to her chest. She was mad.. and she just proved it to him.

Tristan winced when she was screaming, "Are you alright Amadora?" He said looking at her wondering if she would really be okay. He picked her up and put her in the living room on the couch. He wondered if she was remembering her past, he took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped away what tears she missed.

Dora had been here too long. He'd seen her at her worst so now it was really time to go. She'd overstayed her visit - intentional or not. Dora couldn't stay - she just couldn't. She needed to get back to that rickety old house in Spinner's End and sleep out the next week to let her bones heal. "I'd better go." she whispered.